


Frappuccinos and Friendship

by Moosegirl6



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Camping, Christmas, F/M, Frappucinos and Friendship, Happy Starks, Modern, Modern AU, New Year, New Year's Eve, Parent Teacher Conference, Perfect, Pregnancy, Siblings, Snow, Sort Of, They Said It Would Be Brilliant, University AU, Wedding, Winter, Winterfell, bartender gendry, happy new year, not quite Westeros and not quite this world, probs too long, sibling adorbs, someone teach me how to cut down, something in between, teacher, unexpected words
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moosegirl6/pseuds/Moosegirl6
Summary: There are one shots about Arya Stark and Gendry Waters.They were going to be little snippets and drabbles, but I'm incapable of writing anything short, so here are some quite long stories of the modern lives I think they should have had.So far none of them are connected, but who knows what the future holds?





	1. Frappuccinos and Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> He's always injured and she's always asking questions.
> 
> Modern AU Arya and Gendry at university.

He had a bloody nose again. The boy in the grey top – it was always a grey top – who refused to sit anywhere but the front row, had come in at least once every week with some kind of injury.

In September it had been his wrist. He had worn a cast that he mostly hid under a speckled grey hoodie. The last time she had seen him with the cast had been a few minutes after their Friday lecture in the Starbucks around the corner. She had been startled by the sight for three reasons.

One – He was holding a pink Frappuccino.

There was of course nothing wrong with a man holding a pink drink, but there are some people who you expect to only drink hard whiskey and drain-water and when you see them standing in Starbucks holding a pink Frappuccino it startles you.

Two – His cast - the cast that meant he sat in lectures like he didn’t give a shit and would look all this crap up later on Wikipedia all because he couldn’t hold a pen, the cast that she thought was slightly badass, was lime green and covered in signatures.

Three – He knew her name.

She had been leaning against a pillar, waiting for her drink, trying not to take up too much space in the crowded coffee shop, and had allowed her attention to drift.

By the time she heard her name the drink had gone. She flicked her head around at the faces nearby but no-one met her eye and then suddenly he was in front of her.

“Arya, this is yours.”

“Then why did _you_ take it?”

“Didn’t want anyone else to nab it.”

She frowned at him but he had already turned and gone.

October brought a limp. She couldn’t quite see whether there was a bandage or any support beneath his jeans, but that didn’t stop her peaking down at his legs whenever she had the chance. He definitely noticed her staring, and more than once gave her a look, but she would just shake her head and look down. They didn’t know each other well enough for her to explain herself, and his sharp eyes made her blush.

By the end of the month he was walking normally again, without nothing to suggest that anything had ever been wrong. But by next week there was another injury. The first bloody nose.

It had obviously dried by the time he arrived in the lecture theatre, but it was crooked and bruised and Arya almost laughed. Because of course, him with his face disfigured made her a little hotter under the collar than usual. She spent most of the hour considering why it. Perhaps it was the intrigue, the question of how he could take a punch and carry on with his life and not let anyone know what had happened. Or perhaps just the difference between him and the other boys in this class, the ones who spent more time on their hair in the morning than Arya did. Or perhaps it was something more raw and primal. She didn’t want to admit that there was a part of her that appreciated the caveman who would fight for her, but she couldn’t help biting her lip at the picture of him in a fight.

When she saw him later that week – across the library, in the silent section – his face was back to its normal colour. She tried to hold back her disappointment.

But Friday morning came and there he was, in the front row of their most boring lecture with a twisted nose and what looked like blood still on his face.

Arya normally sat near the back with some of the guys from the wrestling team, but the bloody tissue sitting on his desk made her pause and she found herself sitting in the second row, just to his left.

“Do you need a fresh one?” she asked, tapping him on her shoulder with her packet of tissues.

He turned around and frowned.

“Thanks.” He took them and then turned around without further comment.

“No problem.” She muttered to the back of his head.

She should have left it there. She could have, if he hadn’t been so damn secretive.

“Did you get in fight this morning or something?”

He turned around again, his eyebrows raised.

“I mean, I know you’re often injured but this looks-” she paused, taking the opportunity to examine his face, “-fresh.” She squinted suspiciously and thought she saw the flicker of a smile on his face.

“I’m fine.” He turned back, but Arya wasn’t done.

“No, you’re not though. You’re bleeding onto the desk. And you had the remains of a bloody nose on Monday too.”

“So?” He turned back, resting his elbow on the back of his chair.

“So, why? How? Is there some kind of University fight club that I’ve been missing out on?”

This time he really did smile. “No, no fight club. Just some idiot.”

“The same idiot as before?”

He sighed, but hadn’t bothered turning back around so she wasn’t sure why he was complaining.

“Yes the same idiot, no it’s nobody you know, no it’s not always him, and no there’s no fight club.”

“That didn’t really give me any answers.” She leant forward and glared at him with her chin resting on her palm.

“It gave you plenty of answers, just not the ones you wanted.” He laughed an exasperated laugh and shook his head. Before he could turn back to the front she grabbed his arm.

“Well, give me those then.”

He laughed properly this time. “You’re a persistent shit aren’t you?”

“I’m not a shit, I’m a girl.” She glowered at him.

“Oh, I know, don’t worry.”

The lecturer clapped his hands and the rest of the room began to fall silent. He turned around and she sat glaring at the back of his head.

-

She cornered him again on his way out.

“Are you going to Starbucks again? Can I come with you?”

She hadn’t taken long packing her bag because she had never opened it to begin with. Whichever battle Dr. Gibson had spent the past hour covering would surely have been adapted into a film by now. That was the whole reason Arya had taken his class to begin with; Jon had said it was piss-easy. 

He didn’t look up to speak to her, but continued to pack his bag.

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

“Well, you’re so bad at answering them, if I keep asking them then you’re bound to answer me at some point, aren’t you?”

He stood up straight and grinned down at her.

“Am I?”

She looked up at him resolutely ignoring the height difference. “Yes. So, coffee?”

He turned to the door, “I don’t really drink coffee.”

She followed, “Tea? Juice? Froofy Frappuccino?” His steps were long but slow, so she didn’t have trouble keeping up, perhaps by design.

He groaned, but Arya was certain this time that he was also smiling, “Gods’ sake, fine.”

She beamed up at him.

-

“Gibson always makes it seem like nobody is ever the good guy. Just once I want to hear about a battle where the good guy beat the baddie.”

“Isn’t that the point though? That there is no such thing as ‘good versus evil’ but only people on different sides?”

“Don’t you ever want to go back to a time when everything was black and white, though? When of course you were right because that was what you thought was true so damn the other side, you were right?”

“I never thought like that. I think my world’s always been a bit grey.”

“Is that why you always wear that hoodie? To allow your outer self to display your true inner being?”

He snorted, “No, it’s just a good hoodie. It’s got pockets inside and all.”

Arya laughed and reached across to scoop up some of the cream off the top of his drink.

“Oi!”

He swatted at her hand and flicked her spoon away, sending with it flecks of cream towards her.

She laughed and wiped it off her face.

“If you could just give me what I want, there wouldn’t be such a kerfuffle.” She looked at him pointedly.

“Alright,” he said, laughing at how she perked up, “I work at a nightclub as a bouncer and drunk people are idiots. But you still can’t have any cream.” He added, shielding his cup from her.

“Oh, come on!”

She whined and he laughed and the day passed with more questions.

“But what about the cast? The green one? Who signed it?” she had grabbed his arm that had been bound in lime, as though examining it for remaining scars.

He gave her a quizzical look, “My friends. Who signs your casts?”

“Oh anyone I can get to. I imagine. I’ve never actually broken a limb.”

“Really? I thought seeing as you’re so annoying that surely you must regularly get beaten up.”

“Oh shut up, I’m a treat to be around. Although my brother did once push me from a tree.”

“Ha! See. Nightmare.”

“I’m not the nightmare! He is, little blighter. Although it was only because when I’d pushed him he fell and hit his head and had to go to hospital. He’s fine,” she added quickly when a look came on his face that she hoped was concern, but was probably actually just outrage, “it was just to check how bad his concussion was.”

“Oh well then it’s totally fine you pushed your baby brother out of a tree then.” He scoffed.

“It wasn’t my baby brother, it was just Bran, although he _is_ younger than me, but Rickon’s the baby.” She grinned at the thought of trying to push Rickon out of a tree.

He was looking at her now with something new in his eyes. He looked pensive but sounded cautious when he asked, “How many brothers do you have?”

“Four. Well, three and a half, but that’s still technically four, because even though we don’t know who his mum is, we are certain of dad. And then there’s my sister too, but we don’t get on as well.”

His eyebrows were raised and for the first time he looked taken aback.

“Sorry,” she bit her lip, “that’s a load of Stark drama you didn’t need.”

“No, no.” he muttered, blinking, “it’s just- gods there’s a lot of you.”

Arya laughed, “Yeah, but any less and the house would be too quiet, dad always says.”

He was still looking shocked, so it didn’t take much for Arya to surmise - “only child?”

He nodded, “Orphan too. Quiet house.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She frowned. In her enthusiasm for talking about her family she did often put her foot in it.

“No, it’s okay, my mum died a few years ago and I was with her then, but I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Fine?” she asked quietly. She couldn’t imagine losing a parent, let alone losing a parent and then being all alone in the world.

“Fine.” He nodded firmly, his blue eyes turning steely.

“You know,” she began quietly, cradling her mug in her hands, and unsure about how this would sound “whenever Robb – my eldest brother – says that he’s ‘fine’, it’s because he’s really not fine but he thinks that we can’t possible see him upset or we’ll lose all respect for our big brother.” She dared a glance up at him, “Not that I’m saying you’re not fine, but just that in my experience when a person says they’re ‘fine’ that much, they’re actually not, they just don’t have the space to be ‘not fine’. Does that make sense?”

He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together. Probably wondering why this strange girl from class was psycho-analysing him.

“The point,” She continued taking a deep breath, “is that it’s okay not to be fine and if you feel like you need a space to be not fine, then I’m happy to provide.”

She left the point hanging for a few seconds, and when he didn’t respond she started speaking again, hoping to the gods that she could bring them back to the laughing place of ten minutes ago.

“Gods, I’m talking as if I’m your best friend or something, which I know I’m not, because you’re obviously a super popular guy who can fill a whole arm with signatures.”

He gave her a crooked grin, but no words.

“Unless those were all you and you just didn’t want people to think you had no friends, but all along were trying to tempt me in with the intrigue of your injuries so that I would _become_ your best friend.” She squinted at him suspiciously, letting a smile cross her lips when he huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Of course, that would never work because I am not friends with liars. But then, maybe you’re not a liar, simply mad and believe yourself to have friends who wrote all over your cast but actually just can’t remember your last manic fit where you did it yourself.” She declared.

“So either I’m a sad and pathetic liar or I’m crazy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Or you’re a perfectly decent guy who I’m a bit intrigued by.” She offered, smiling into her coffee.

“How intrigued?”

She frowned at the question, “What do you mean?”

“Intrigued enough to give me your notes from today?” His head was bowed, his chin tucked down towards his chest, but he flicked a glance up at her and with it she saw a smile.

“I didn’t take any notes today.”

He tilted his head quizzically. In a strange way it reminded her of her brother’s dog. “None?”

She shook her head and held his gaze, determinedly not blushing. “No, I was a bit – er – distracted.”

He was smiling now. Looking at her as she blushed and avoided the real question.

“I’m intrigued enough to steal you Hot Pie’s notes though. So long as I get something in return.”

“What would you want?”

She sat up straight and held his gaze. “Another coffee date.”

“Date?”

“That too.”

He laughed, and stirred his straw around his cup, “This morning I didn’t think you even knew my name.”

She looked down at his hands, “If we’re being totally honest-” she started and then stopped herself. Surely there were ways of not admitting this. If she would only keep quiet.

“What? You secretly been stalking me?” he grinned again.

“No!” she cried, not looking at him.

“That sounds a tad too defensive to me.”

“Shut up! No, I was _going_ to say that- well, I still don’t really know your name.”

She looked up at him and then away again quickly, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.

“You pester me all the way from uni into a date and you don’t even know my name?”

He sounded outraged, but when Arya looked up he was smiling. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“Shut up. I know I like you, shouldn’t that be enough?”

“No, and that is such a bad line, you should be ashamed.”

She laughed but could feel her face burning.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I think you’re intriguing and you’re easy to talk to and I think you’re attractive, but I don’t know your name. Can you please tell me now?”

“For someone so full of questions I would have thought that would have been your first one.”

“Well, you knew mine, and I still wasn’t sure you weren’t the TA.”

He cackled at that, “Just because I’m old?”

“Old _er._ ” She said firmly, “not old. My brothers would have a heart attack if they heard I was dating an old guy. I mean they’ll probably have a heart attack about you anyway. Jon and Robb are both quite good at the ‘intimidating big brother’ malarkey. Goodness knows Sansa’s needed it with the fools she’s brought home.”

“Big scary brothers? Oh dear, maybe this dating business isn’t for me. I mean, if you haven’t bothered to even find out my name, how serious can you be about it, after all?”

“Would you shut up?”

He grinned broadly.

“Maybe I don’t want to date you,” she sniffed half turning away from him, “see, I try not to date morons.” She turned back to glare at him, but he just laughed again.

“There’s a shame. Because I only date irritating girls who sulk when they don’t get their way.”

“I’m not sulking! You’re just an arse!” She folded her arms and kicked him - lightly - under the table.

“An arse you’re scheduled to go on a date with.” He laughed easily, ignoring the physical violence happening down below.

She glowered at him, “Nothing’s scheduled, you’re just- just lightly pencilled in.”

“And when is that pencilled in for?”

She thought for a second, going through the calendar in her head. Housemate night tonight, coffee with Sansa in the morning, but then nothing until Sunday - “Tomorrow evening?”

“Perfect. Here’s my number, let me know your address and I’ll come pick you up.” He scribbled on a napkin and threw it across the table at her.

“To go where?”

He shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he stood.

“And I can’t put this in my phone without a name, so…” she left the sentence hanging, anticipating a response that would finally satisfy.

“Call me whatever you like.”

“I’m putting you in as ‘horse-arse’.”

“See you tomorrow, Arya.”

“See you tomorrow, Horse-arse.”


	2. Unexpected Words

There are some words you never expect to hear. Maybe because they send chills down your spine, set ice in your heart.

There was a day last year when Arya heard some of those words.   
“He’s in hospital, I’m sorry it’s not looking good.”   
Her dad had died a few hours later and Arya had felt her world crack.

Maybe you don’t expect to hear the words because you can’t quite bear what they will do to your heart, how it will jump and dance, and how you’ll want to cry and laugh at the same time.

A few months ago she had heard another sentence that made her head swirl.   
“I’m moving back home.”   
Jon was coming back, finally moving back home after years away. Arya knew she shouldn’t have favourites out of her siblings, but she also knew that Jon was hers. He had held her when she was born, he had ruffled her hair every day since, he had taught her to read and to fight and then he had moved away. The day he returned she had run back into his arms and cried for a full hour.

Maybe you don’t expect to hear something because it just seems implausible. Ridiculous. Like something out of a dream.

“Arya? Did you hear me?”

Gendry was smiling at her, but he looked terrified.

“I asked if you wanted to go on a date.”

Arya nodded, her eyes frozen in her head, staring up at him. “I heard.” They were on the stairwell outside of their last class, not the most romantic of places but Arya was fairly certain Sansa would be jealous of this.

She blinked a few times and felt her stomach slowly climb its way back up off the floor where it had dropped. Only now it was fluttering and wouldn’t sit still.

“I would. I would want to. Go on a date. With you. If you’re asking.”

She didn’t smile, but that was okay, because Gendry smiled enough for the both of them, his cheeks red, and a hand twisting at a corner of his shirt.

“Great, how about tomorrow?”

Maybe some words shouldn’t be said, but should be whispered, thought, shown.

When Gendry had kissed her she had known what he was saying, and when he pulled her through the door to his room he knew what she wanted to say.

Arya had never expected to hear the words ‘I love you’ so when he whispered them to her when her cheek was pressed to his chest and the sun was trickling into the room, she was startled. Hadn’t he already told her that last night, in all their time together?

But she still said them back. Because sometimes it’s nice to hear the unexpected.

Not now though. Now she was shocked and couldn’t quite breathe.

“You’re pregnant.” The doctor said again, unsure whether she had actually heard or was just trying not to.

“Okay.” She muttered, wanting her to stop saying it. She said some other things but Arya really wasn’t listening. Her hands were sweating as they gripped the seat of the chair.

The doctor kept talking and Arya kept pretending to listen, but all she could think about was Gendry and Jon and Sansa and the boys and her mother and – oh, she felt her heart ache – her father. She could see them, their eyes wide with surprise, narrowed in concern, wrinkling with laughter, their arms warm around her, their words too many and unwanted.

Pregnant.

The fresh air woke her somewhat as she walked home, but when she stood outside her front door, her bag heavy with information leaflets, she was shaking too much to open the door on the first or second try.

Gendry was in the kitchen and when he saw her he dropped what he was doing and ran to her.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened? Arya? You look like you’re about to faint.” His panic set off hers and she started crying, and no longer able to hold herself up, sank to the floor.

They sat there for a while, Arya crying onto Gendry’s shoulder, unable to say the words.

Finally, when she had been sat down on the sofa and handed a warm cup of tea she took a breath.

“Gendry.” He looked at her. He was sitting on the floor in front of her.

“Arya.” He smiled.

She didn’t.

“I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows raised, but otherwise he didn’t look very surprised. She had been expecting shock, tears, anger. Something more extreme than this. Gendry didn’t tend to keep his emotions internal, not with her.

“You don’t have to keep it.”

Arya frowned at him. He said that so lightly. “Just because it’s not a person yet, doesn’t mean it’s not a Stark.”

He laughed, “Okay, so we’re keeping it.”

Her stomach was fluttering again. Maybe it was her imagining tiny feet in her womb or maybe it was Gendry saying ‘we’ when Arya was terrified.

She nodded slowly.

They sat in silence until Gendry said, “I hope it’s a girl.”

“What?”

“Well, I think you’re incredible, and I want a little girl just like you.” His voice was soft, but his smile turned quickly to a smirk, “Partly because then she can protect me from you.”

Arya kicked him gently, but he threw himself backwards on the rug.

“Argh! No! See? I need a bodyguard!”

She laughed and sipped her tea.

“I’m sure that’s not going to be the last time you’ll need protection from me.”

“Well, clearly a lack of protection is a recurring problem with us.” He smirked up at her, coaxing yet another laugh from her.

The clock chimed in the kitchen and Arya turned her head, letting her hair hide her face from him for a second.

“What if I’m no use?”

“As a mother? How could that be possible? You’re brilliant at everything.” He shrugged at her so casually she almost laughed.

“That’s not true! I can throw a punch, but I’ve always been terrible at girl things.” She wrinkled her nose, remembering when her mother had tried to teach her to sew.

“But being a mother isn’t a ‘girl thing’, it’s totally different from sewing and dancing and whatnot, and now that you’re pregnant it’s an ‘Arya thing’. And you’re pretty good at all the Arya things.”

“Like what?” she grinned at him.

He knelt and leant forwards, resting his hands on either side of her on the sofa. “If you were less emotionally fragile I would pick you up on that compliment-fishing. But as it is, I’ll allow it.” He gave a firm nod and she laughed a little. “You’re pretty good at this-” his lips met hers “-and other associated acts.” She laughed again. “And obviously you’re good at kicking my arse. And other people’s arses, now that I mention it. Really many arse related acts you are good at.”

She was laughing properly now, real chuckles rolling out of her. Gendry took her cup from her hand and set it on the table.

“And you’re good at making me laugh, particularly when you fall over.” He pushed her gently until she was lying back on the sofa. “And then you’re good at getting up as though nothing happened, that’s always my favourite.” He peppered her with kisses as he clambered onto the sofa with her, pressing her gently into it. “And you’re really good at puzzles and riddles and clever things I can’t quite do but if you gave me more time could probably get to.”

“As if.” She huffed, as he ran his mouth down her neck.

“Shh, I’m busy telling you how wonderful you are, no interruptions.” His hands brushed her waist.

“You’re kind and compassionate,” his mouth was hot against her neck, “you manage to make amends with Sansa every time you piss each other off.”

“I really don’t want you thinking about my sister right now.” Arya grumbled, before letting out a gasp. Gendry’s hands were making their way down her body.

“You’re beautiful and the only woman I ever want to think about.”

“Better – oh!” she gasped as his hands tightened around her waist, so there were millimetres between them.

He was suddenly intense, and Arya made herself focus on what he was saying, “I love you Arya, and I will love our child, but probably not more than you, its incredible mother.”

“Gendry.” She smiled against his lips and leant back to look at him, his face in her hands.

“My beautiful girl.” He whispered, kissing her softly on the cheek.

.

They didn’t quite make it to the bedroom the first time, or the second even, but at some point they got there, and Gendry’s tongue was doing subtly brilliant things when the doorbell rang.

Arya was there first, but that in no way meant she was prepared for the person at the door. But then, is one ever prepared for Sansa Stark?

She swept into the house without invitation, gave her sister a kiss and sat herself down in the large chair beside the fire. Arya gave a silent prayer of gratitude that she hadn’t sat on the sofa.

“Sansa, how can we help? Do you want tea?” Gendry was always more accommodating to guests than Arya. The kettle was already on before Sansa could reply.

“Oh, that would be lovely, thank you, Gendry!” she smiled warmly at him, and waited until he was busy pottering in the kitchen before turning to Arya.

“Now, I’m not just here as a social call,” she began in a tone that made the hairs on Arya’s arm stand up. She could smell a lecture coming, “only I saw you earlier today and you completely ignored me walking down the street.”

It took Arya barely a second to work out that it must have been on her way home from the doctors. She pursed her lips. Sansa would get no apology for that, she had been in no state to talk to anyone then, let alone carry a polite conversation with her sister.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t completely myself.”

“Oh no, of course that’s okay, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay! You _did_ seem a bit out of it.”

Sansa swept her long hair to one side as she spoke, and leant forward elegantly to accept a steaming cup from Gendry.

Arya nodded, but couldn’t quite find the right words to explain to her sister what today had been like. She looked at Gendry and then back at her sister and just shrugged.

“It’s been a long day.”

“Well, yes,” Sansa smiled in what she surely thought was a kind way, but which made Arya cringe from condescension, “but _are_ you okay?”

Arya nodded and turned to Gendry, gripping his knee sharply, imploring him to speak.

“Yes, well Arya had just had some news, so- um-er-” he turned to look at her, “are we-?”

Arya pressed her lips together and nodded, “We might as well.”

Gendry smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead before turning back to Sansa.

“Arya had just been to the doctors and was still a bit shaken when you saw her, I think.”

“Arya? Are you okay?”

“For fuck’s sake Sansa, yes I’m _okay_ , I’m not dying or anything.” She regretted that immediately, but if her sister asked if she was okay _one_ more time-

“Arya.” Gendry’s voice was low and he was frowning at her. She rolled her eyes, but kept her mouth shut.

He turned to Sansa, “I’m sorry, it’s just been a bit emotional.”

“What’s happened?” Sansa looked pale, leaning forwards in her chair with her hands wrapped around her cup.

Gendry gave a laugh, “Gods, you’d think it was something terrible.” His grin didn’t appear to soothe Sansa, but it did set Arya’s stomach fluttering again. It really wasn’t terrible, was it?

“We’re having a baby.” Arya said before she could stop herself. Gendry looked down at her and beamed.

“Oh!” Sansa’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped into a smooth circle, but she found her smile again within seconds. “Oh, that’s wonderful!”

“Yes, I rather think it is.” Gendry now looked as though he was going to be permanently grinning like a fool, and Arya found she was rather okay with that.

Arya laughed, and leant into his embrace, his arms wrapping around her and a hand resting gently on her stomach, “Yeah, it’s not what I expected, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”

Definitely not a bad thing.


	3. They said it would be brilliant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> University was nothing like what everyone said it would be.

_‘A close-knit community just a step away from the ocean, with direct transport links right on your doorstep!’ – University of Oldtown Prospectus_

Arya wrapped her scarf around her neck a third time and tried not to shiver. The bus was late again, and the bus shelter was already full of people. She wrinkled her nose at the rain, almost as though glaring at it would send it away. Another gush of wind from off the sea brought a sheet of rain her way, battering her small umbrella.  
It was a Saturday morning and she was already ten minutes late to meet Jon. He’d suggested somewhere in town because, she thought, he thought she might want to explore a little bit of the city. She now saw that it was because he didn’t want to have to come all the way out here to this wretched campus.  
She looked up at the library building behind her, beige turned brown in the weather, towering and intimidating. It was the only thing stopping the wind reaching the bus stop, but Arya couldn’t bring herself to like it. That was probably the best part of the cliff campus; not being blown over when you’re being rained on waiting for the bus. And that Arya had heard tell of a doorway onto the roof where you could see out to sea. She liked the sea here, it was different to the North. That was part of the reason she had come to university so far away. To see what the rest of the world was like outside of Winterfell.

Apparently it was wet and windy.

Arya was distracted looking back at the university buildings so she didn’t see the bus rolling around the corner, but she certainly felt the splash of the puddle. She gasped and squealed, but there was nothing to be done. She was even wetter now, and officially last in the queue. She sighed and shot another glare up at the university buildings.

*

‘ _G_ _o to university, it's brilliant, you'll love it! I did!’ – Robb Stark_

“Yeah, I hated living there too. It’s pretty awful. I’m only sort of liking it now that I’m back.”

Jon shrugged, drinking deeply from his large mug of coffee.

Arya frowned again, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She loved her brother, and was incredible grateful he had chosen to do his PhD here at Oldtown, but she definitely felt he deserved a big kick on the shin.

“But you said you loved uni. You and Robb, you both said it was incredible and I would have the _‘time of my life’_ ” she quoted, shuffling a bit closer to the fire. When she had arrived – forty minutes late – Jon had been settled on the sofa nearest the hearth. Arya had thrown her wet coat over a chair and sunk down in the cushions. She curled her feet up under her and leant her dripping head against Jon’s shoulder, accidentally-on-purpose flicking her hair in his face.

He grinned and said, “Yeah, the overall experience is great, but your campus is shit.”

She glared at him, “Stop smiling. You look far too smug. Just because you’re at the real university.”

“Arya, we go to the same university,” he said, shaking his head at her.

“Yeah but you get to spend all your time in the Citadel and I’m on an industrial estate! Couldn’t they have found space closer to town?”

“Probably, but why would you want to be here in the middle of the most beautiful city in Westeros, when you could be perched on a cliff a few miles away?”

Arya kicked him with still-wet feet but Jon just laughed.

_*_

_'Living in halls was the best thing, you meet so many lovely people!’ – Sansa Stark_

For the fourth night that week Arya’s neighbour was playing music.

She was not against music, on the whole, and had never considered herself intolerant to loud noises, but the boy next door insisted on only listening to EDM with boomingly terrible bass lines.

She took a deep breath and put her headphones back in. She could be patient. She was sure she wasn’t always that quiet, after all.

“Will you shut the _fuck_ up?”

Arya jumped and nearly fell off her chair. Clearly not everyone shared her views on the loud noise.

The music quietened, and a door opened.

“Whatcha want?” her neighbour sounded surly, but no angrier than he had been when Arya had dealt with him.

“I want to do some fucking work, and I can’t because you’ve cranked your shitty music up _so_ fucking loud.”

“Sorry.”

The door closed, but Arya didn’t hear any footsteps. She crept to her peephole and looked out.

There was a guy standing there who she thought might be familiar, although in this building it was hard to know everyone. He had dark hair and light eyes and was standing there with his hand on the wall as though he was considering punching through it.

Arya opened her door. She wasn’t sure why, but before she could think about it she was speaking.

“I know that seems like a rude response, but I honestly think that’s as polite as he gets.”

The guy turned his glare onto her.

“Does he do this often?”

Arya took a second to answer, and using the time to look a bit closer, “Yeah, most nights.” He was taller than she thought, and somehow didn’t look cold in just a t-shirt and jeans. He was barefoot too, for some reason. “Haven’t you heard him?”

“No, I’ve only just moved into the room down the hall.” He nodded his head at number thirty-six, the room at the exact opposite end of the corridor to Arya’s.

“Ah, well then welcome to the best place in the world, I’m sure you found your luxury welcome pack on your bed?” Arya nodded solemnly at him, reaching out a hand to shake.

He took it with a snort, “You mean the warning leaflet about the potential dangers of asbestos? Oh yeah, real bedtime reading material that.”

Arya laughed. “Yeah, but I’d rather they warn us, you know? What’s your name by the way?”

“Gendry.” He answered, finally smiling.

“Mine’s Arya.”

His smile widened, “Nice to meet you Arya.”

_*_

_'It’ll be intellectually stimulating, a real challenge' – Ned Stark_

“I bet you can’t.”

“I bet I fucking can. Give me the bag.”

“There’s no way.” He held the bag up above her head. Arya pretended to be annoyed that he was making her reach, but she was enjoying the way his t-shirt lifted up when he stretched a little too much. She knew he was generally toned, but seeing it was a different matter.

“Just watch me.” She bit out, folding her arms.

“Don’t bet against Arya, Gendry, she’s not been beaten yet.” Hot-pie looked nervous, and Arya couldn’t help but delight in that. Not three weeks in and she had already built up a decent level of fear and respect in her new friend.

“Yeah, but that’s because she’s been playing against the likes of you.” Gendry scoffed in the general direction of Hot-pie and Lommy, but maintained eye-contact with Arya.

He blinked, and she cracked a grin.

“Ha! Now give me the bag because you’re going down.”

Gendry scoffed again, but put the bag down on the table between them and sat down. They had somehow nabbed the best space in the common room, soft chairs with a decent table. Arya liked these seats because they were facing each other, so it was easy to stare someone down in a competition. Well, usually anyway. She could barely stop herself bubbling over with laughter as she stared at Gendry. She blinked this time and he winked at her triumphantly.

“Okay,” Hot-pie stood and held up his phone ready on the stopwatch app, “Lom, you alright to adjudicate?”

“Born ready.” Lommy grinned toothily, and Arya could see Gendry trying not to roll his eyes. She smothered a laugh as Hot-pie looked between her and Gendry.

“Contestants ready?”

They both nodded seriously, the intense eye-contact returning. Arya bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She could see Gendry’s lips twitching.

“Threetwoonego!”

The marshmallows were dusty and Arya’s hands were quick, “Chubby Bunny!”, but somehow Gendry was there too.

“Chubby Bunny!” Gendry cried a second later, a second too slow, but three seconds faster than the others had been.

Hot-pie laughed, and Arya had to focus to keep all of her attention on the bag of marshmallows. She knew that if she caught Gendry’s eye now she would burst out laughing and all would be lost.

She took a breath through her nose and shoved another sweet in her cheek, squishing it down. And then another on the other side, and then another and another.

Robb always used to tease her that whenever she played a sport she was unbeatable so long as she got into a rhythm, and that once she was in the zone it was like trying to stop a moving train. He would make train noises at her whenever they played tennis against each other. She hadn’t known this particular talent applied to food-based sports until Hot-Pie had introduced them to his favourite childhood game.

She scrabbled for the bag “Chu-he hu-ging unny.” She choked the words out and finally looked up at Gendry. He was looking at her with drool down his chin, a pile of half-chewed marshmallows on the table in front of him, and a look of regret on his face.

Arya smiled slowly, letting the soft sugar ooze out of her mouth until the marshmallows plopped down to join Gendry’s on the table.

He gagged, and then burst into laughter, his face lighting up, his eyes wrinkling, and his head thrown back. Arya joined him, revelling in the noise.

This was totally worth missing a seminar for.

*

_'You’ll have your own space, your privacy, you won’t have to keep us up to date with every little detail, don’t worry!' – Catelyn Stark_

“So you’re seeing this guy then?”

“What? No! Sort of.” Arya wasn’t sure why she was hesitant to tell Jon. It had only been a few weeks since she had asked Gendry out, and they had barely been on three dates since then, but it did feel like a tangible thing now. It wasn’t exactly time for him to meet the family, but surely it was time to tell Jon.

“Is ‘sort of’ code for ‘yes, absolutely’?” Jon smirked, pulling one of Arya’s pillows out from under her head and stuffing it between him and her wall.

She groaned and rolled over, burying her face in her remaining pillow.

She hadn’t been expecting Jon today. Even though she had been complaining for weeks that she was the one making all the effort to meet up, and that he needed to come and see her once in a while, she still hadn’t expected him to actually do it until forced. But at half past four on a miserable Thursday afternoon he had turned up at her door with pizza and popcorn. In her surprise she had blurted out something about cancelling her date later on and had somehow come to a point of explaining to Jon that, yes she had been serious, and no of course she hadn’t told anyone back home about it.

“So how long have you been shagging your flatmate?” he asked the question casually, but Arya knew that there were an unfathomably number of layers beneath it. She groaned and forced herself to sit up so she could glower at her brother.

“We’re not shagging, we’re dating.” She clarified. She put out a hand to stop Jon from saying whatever stupid thing he had been about to and continued, “He’s lovely, I’m quite happy, it’s new and a bit awkward, but I’m sure you’ll like him, now could you please shut up about it?” She spoke as though she were reading a shopping list aloud, but the pleading in her eyes was far less casual.

He reached for the bag of popcorn from the foot of the bed, ignoring her look entirely. “Nope. My baby sister has a boyfriend, I’m not letting go of this yet. What does he study?” he tilted his head like Ghost did when he wanted a treat.

Arya sighed, and pursed her lips, “Anthropology.”

Jan sat up excitedly, as she knew he would, “Does he?! Do you know what modules he’s taking? I’ve got a few inter-departmental seminars this semester, he might be in one.”

Arya groaned, “I don’t know,” she really hoped not, “he’s in second year though.”

“An older guy, eh?” Jon winked at her and she contemplated throwing herself back down on her pillow, “How come he didn’t want to live out?”

She huffed an answer at him, “He transferred from Kings Landing, so he’s new to Oldtown this year.”

“Yeah, but still,” Jon sniffed, looking around at Arya’s room, “once you’ve done the halls experience, why would you choose to go back?”

“He just has, okay?” she muttered, before fixing him with a firm look, “Can you stop please?”

Jon’s smirk slipped into a gentle smile, “Okay. I’ll stop asking questions about him.”  Arya relaxed, letting out a gust of breath.

“Thanks.” She said, pushing herself up into a better sitting position and scrabbling across the bed to sit with her head on Jon’s shoulder.

When she was settled with her arms wrapped around his arm, her face pressed to his shoulder, he said in a voice full of cheek, “Guess I’ll just ask him when I meet him.”

“Jon!”

Jon was laughing again as Arya felt her cheeks go red.

“Of course I’ll have to check with Robb and Dad if there any particular things I need to say, you know, as the family representative.” He nodded mock-pensively.

“Don’t you dare!” Her stomach dropped and not even the grin on Jon’s face was enough to stop her from hitting him.

He took the blows to the stomach with an “Oof!” and then carried on regardless, “You know I might just call them now, just to be absolutely certain.”

Arya reached forwards to grab him just as he stood up off the bed quickly putting some distance between them. His phone was dialling before Arya could get her next threat in.

“I’m going to kill you!”

“Ah, yes, Robb?” He barely got a sentence out before Arya had jumped on him, “You got a free moment? Great. I – argh – sorry, just – Arya! Terribly sorry, I just need to get Arya’s – oof, fuck, ow! - _tiny_ hands – ah, shit! - _off_ my phone!”

Clinging to his back, with her hands trapped in one of his, she yelled into the phone still at his ear, “Don’t listen to him, he’s being a twat!”

She could hear laughter on the other end, and Robb mutter something that made Jon choke out a laugh.  
“Insults won’t make this any easier, Arya – stop kicking me and- argh!”

She had bitten his hand, he had dropped her and she kicked the back of his knees hard enough that he dropped to the ground.

It was at this point, with Arya’s arms wrapped around Jon’s neck, trying to step on his feet to stop him getting up, that there was a knock on the door.

They paused and Jon took the opportunity to push Arya off him.

“Come in!” he called jauntily before she could re-launch an attack.

The door opened and Gendry’s head popped round the corner.

“Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Jon grinned, “but I think Arya’s about to have an embolism.” He turned to look at his sister, and quickly ducked as Arya threw a pillow at him.

Gendry looked up at Arya, waiting for a response.

“Gendry, this is my brother Jon. He is a penis of a human being. Do not make friends with him, he’s horrible.”

“Gendry? You’re Gendry? Perfect. It’s good to meet you, I have heard nothing about you.” Jon held out his hand and Gendry – to Arya’s horror – took it.

He nodded at Jon before looking back at Arya.

“Are you okay? You look kind of-” he paused and his eyes flicked to Jon, “upset.”

“I’m fine, it’s just – oh for fuck’s sake!” Arya broke off from her dismissing lie at the sound of her phone ringing.

As she pulled it out of her pocket she saw Jon crack a grin at the sight of Robb’s picture on the screen.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Arya, are you okay? It sounded like you and Jon were scrapping.” Robb feigned care well, usually, but Arya could easily detect the amusement in his voice and it made her stomach churn.

“Yes old man, we were _scrapping_. Jon is a tit and deserves to be told so. Nothing more, no reason for you to call, actually nothing interesting has happened at all here, please never ring this number again.”

“Oh come on Arya, we’re all interested now!”

“All?”

“Yeah, all. Me, and Bran, and Rickon, and mum and dad. All. We’re about to have dinner. Now fess up, what’s going on?”

Arya groaned, and kicked the pillow she had thrown on the floor up towards Jon, who was now snuggling himself down on her bed. He caught it and settled it behind his head, leaning back against the headboard, his phone still in his hand, kicking his shoes to the floor. Gendry, who had moved out of the way of the sibling violence, was now sitting tentatively on the chair at Arya’s desk.

“There is nothing that I wish to say to you, Jon has been unreasonable and attempted to break my confidence.”

“It’s okay you don’t need to tell us,” Arya sighed and shot a smug look at Jon, but Robb carried on talking, “Jon’s just text me. So how did you meet this Gendry?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jon!”

“Language!”

“Arya!”

Both of her elder brothers berated her at the same time, in the same tone of voice, drawing the exact same reaction from their little sister. She groaned and hung up, throwing herself down on the bed.

Jon nudged her with his toe, but she batted him away. She heard Gendry step away from the door and further into the room. There was a minute of what Arya might have thought of as awkward silence were she not hiding from the world in her duvet.

“I’ll – er – I’ll go and make some more popcorn.” She heard Jon say. She felt him get up off the bed, and then the door closed and it was quiet again.

Arya tentatively lifted her head up off the bed. Gendry was sitting in her chair watching her.

“Why don’t you want to tell your family about me?”

She sat up.

In all the dramatics of fighting with Jon and swearing at Robb, she had all-but forgotten that Gendry had been there, seeing her wail at the idea of telling her family she had a boyfriend. She looked at him now, taking in the nervous tension in his shoulders, the line between his eyes.

She sighed, “I’m really sorry.”

He didn’t say anything and he didn’t move an inch, but his eyes looked sad, she thought.

“Not-” she began sternly, “-because you are my boyfriend.” She set her chin and sat up straight before carrying on, “I am definitely not sorry about that. But I am sorry that I made it look like I was. I just-” she paused and sighed again. “I just wanted to tell them in my own way. You know, introduce the concept of you with a funny story, and then build that up with random mentions of how nice you are, and how you could totally take all four of my brothers in a fight so they shouldn’t even try.” She flicked her eyebrows up at him and got a slight twitch of his lips in return.

She reached forwards and took his hand in hers. “I’m just not used to having to tell my family about these big personal things, and I was hoping I could get used to you and what this is before they ask me what it’s like.”

“And what is it like?”

“Confusing.” She frowned at him. “Frustrating. A bit pathetic at times.”

He frowned back, “How is it pathetic?”

She sighed loudly, “Well, take this morning for example. I was on the bus and thought I saw you and when I realised it wasn’t you I almost cried.” When he raised his eyebrows in disbelief she rolled her eyes, “Okay, maybe not actual tears, but the disappointment of having to wait until I got home to see you was a bit more than it should have been. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Gendry smiled, finally, and nodded, “Yeah, it’s not great. Sort of like sitting in your room in silence so you can hear the moment when the door down the end of the corridor finally opens in the morning.”

Arya smiled up at him. “Isn’t it brilliant?”

His response was firm and tasted like popcorn. Arya leaned into him, threading her hands through his hair and savouring the way his hands felt on her waist.

“Yes,” he mumbled against her lips, “it's brilliant.”


	4. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Ed Sheeran's 'Perfect' one too many times. Here you go.

The snow had just started falling when Arya turned the oven down. She was stood in her mother’s kitchen staring out at the garden, looking towards the woods at the bottom. The sloping lawn would be completely white in a few minutes, she knew, and the ground already frozen enough not to be muddy.   
The lights in the trees twinkled, catching her eye even from this distance. She could see figures moving down there, and she felt her stomach clench. One of them would be moving back towards the house soon.   
She turned an ear to the hallway, but there was no sound other than the happy chatter of a newly reunited family. Robb and Jeyne had gotten in half an hour ago and had barely had time to take their coats off before Ned and Catelyn were pestering them to see the sonogram. Arya didn’t blame them, it was their first grandchild after all. Sansa and Rickon were in the living room with them too, half cooing over their unborn nephew, and half rolling their eyes at how soppy Robb had become. Jeyne had mellowed him beyond what Arya had thought possible, and now he went doe-eyed over the slightest thing to do with his family.

Gods, he was going to cry, wasn’t he?

There was a figure on the path now, a dark shape in the swirl of snowflakes, lighting the tea-lights in the lanterns and hastily unravelling the industrial length fairy lights as they went. When the last lantern was lit and the figure disappeared round to the front of the house Arya smiled to herself. Dinner would be ready in just under an hour, everyone was here, and it looked like everything in the woods was ready.  

“Hey, everyone?” Arya’s voice trembled a bit as she stood in the doorway to the living room, but she pretended not to notice, “You’re going to need to put shoes and coats on. You’ve got five minutes.” They all looked at her, already in her thick parka with the hood pulled up and the fur almost obscuring her face. She was met with confused looks and a groan off Sansa.

“Why?” Her sister frowned, “Is this some ‘family bonding activity’? Or is it just because you’ve forgotten what snow looks like?”

“No.” Arya said more defensively than she needed to. She hadn’t been in the south _that_ long. “It will all become clear, but I promise you are going to want to come.” When none of them moved she gestured firmly to the door, “Come on! Jon and Bran are already out there!”

“In the snow? Isn’t it freezing out?” Jeyne wrinkled her nose at the window. It was coming down thick and fast now and hardly anything could be seen through it.

“Yes.” Arya said impatiently, “They’ve been getting it ready. Now hurry up and meet back in the hallway when _you’re_ ready, we all need to go out together.”

Even with both a deadline and the prospect of a mystery event it still took the Starks too long to do as Arya said. By the time everyone was ready Arya had nearly bitten through her lip from nervous chewing.

“Are we all here?” she asked her crowded family.

“Present!” Rickon stuck his hand in the air grinning cheekily at his sister.

She smiled back. “Good. Gendry, you in there somewhere?” she reached up on her toes to see if his dark head was somewhere in the thicket.

His voice called back from the opposite side of the pack, close to the door, “I’m here!”

“Good!” She beamed, breathless now, “You okay to guide them down?”

“Ready and willing.”

Arya couldn’t see Gendry, but she knew his eyes would be twinkling as he let his lips twitch into a smile.

As they shuffled out into the night Arya grabbed her father’s hand and pulled him back.

“Actually, dad, I need you to stay with me for a minute. I just want to ask you something.”

Her father looked down at her with surprise, but also a warm smile. “Of course.”

*

.

The snow wasn’t as bad as it looked. For a family of northerners it was barely even worth worrying about.

Or so Jon had said about ten times in the last twenty minutes. They had been focusing on threading the last of the lights through the trees, but Jon had still found time to worry. Bran nodded at him, but Jon could feel the mild disbelief. They had come to the end of their decorations now and were each standing with large umbrellas over the largest collections of candles to stop the snow putting them out too soon.  
Jon looked up towards the house where they could see people moving. The candles they had placed in jam jars swung on their ribbons as a cold wind rushed through the trees. The front door to the house opened.  

“Here they come.”

Bran nodded, but didn’t speak. He was fiddling with the umbrella, trying to get it to rest in the tree branches so that he could leave it unattended.

“How do you think they’ll react?”

Not for the first time Jon drew up a picture of Catelyn Stark standing in a clearing in the snow in her housecoat with an utterly bemused expression on her face. Or Sansa, wrapped up in a coat covering what they all knew _was_ her pyjama top, even though claimed otherwise. Or even Robb, unshaven and bewildered.

Bran cracked a grin. “Oh I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

*

.

Gendry kept his head down. In life generally, but tonight particularly. It was the best way to go about it, he thought. It wasn’t that he was shirking the responsibility for this idea, nor was he in any way having doubts, but he knew that if he spoke to anyone now he would probably burst from all the stress of this business. It had been a busy few weeks of secret preparations, as well as all the laughter and excitement and daily questioning whether this was a good idea or whether they were about to estrange Arya’s entire family, but it was nearly all over now. Just the final bit to go. And telling the Starks why they were being dragged out into the snowy woods in the middle of winter. He had tried to push that task to Arya at first, to Jon when they had told him, even to Bran when they had let him in on the plan this morning, but they had all insisted that it had to be him.  

And he was nervous.

It was ridiculous really, of all the things to be scared of tonight. It wasn’t the words he would speak or what came after that scared him, no, it was telling the Starks what was about to happen.

Still, it was better that they were here. He could only imagine what it would be like if they had just turned up and announced it had already happened.

Gendry took a breath, letting the cold wash through him. He had worn his thickest coat because knew Arya wouldn’t be wearing one, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t shaking. Her family around him filled the night with their cooing over the lights and their excited laughter and playful banter, but Gendry kept his eyes pointed towards the clearing. There would be time to laugh later.

*

.

Her dress was knee-length and only slightly flowy. It was easier to hide away in her suitcase that way, and she never had been one for ball-gowns, but standing in the shop in _this_ dress she hadn’t been able to resist the extra fuss and adornments. She didn’t regret it as she looked in the mirror now. Tulle fell to the ground around her and for a second as it fluttered over her arms she felt beautiful.   
Her dad helped her pin it to her head, flowing out from the blue flowers and the loose curls.   
She had spent perhaps too long that afternoon in the bathroom fiddling with Sansa’s curling iron, wrestling her usual messy mane into something soft and delicately tousled. She thought it looked okay in the end. And even if it didn’t, well, it wasn’t like they had hired a photographer.

She didn’t think they were tears in her dad’s eyes, but she didn’t like to ask just in case. Even on a day like this you still don’t want to see your dad cry. She took his hand, leaving her coat hung on its hook but pulling her wrap more firmly around her, and opened the front door.

She had known what they had been planning on doing in terms of decorations. In fact, it had been her who had bought them – yesterday on their way to the airport - but that didn’t mean that it didn’t leave her a little bit breathless when she stepped out of the front door and onto the path that provided her an honour guard of lanterns down to the woods.   
When they reached the edge of the trees it really did feel like stepping into a fairytale grotto. There were paper lanterns hanging, candles everywhere and thousands of twinkling lights. The snow was falling less insistently here under the trees, but where it did fall it caught the light and looked like sparks.   
Arya laughed to herself; this definitely made up for having to cook dinner by herself. The boys had really outdone themselves. It was magical.

*

.

The group fell silent in a hush of – what was it? Astonishment? Excitement? Shock? They were stood in a semi-circle around Gendry, all staring at him, those blue Tully eyes particularly seeming to bore holes into him courtesy of Arya’s siblings, but most of all from Catelyn. Jeyne was smiling but with an eye on her husband. Bran and Jon were standing back and they all seemed to be waiting. The silence was broken by Robb.

“What?”

He looked angry. Or perhaps his face was just scrunched against the cold. Sansa held a touch more of real outrage, with her hands on her hips.

“I’m in my pyjamas!” she exclaimed, folding her arms over her chest as though they didn’t already know that.

Usually-put-together Sansa being caught so off guard seemed to be the catalyst for hysteria they needed. Rickon started laughing, Jeyne caught his eye then turned to her husband full of giggles, and suddenly the clearing was full of noise again.

Catelyn was the only one not laughing, but her stern expression had softened somewhat as she looked at Gendry.

“Why now?” she tilted her head and waited for a sufficient answer.

Gendry had none to offer.

“Why not?”

Arya’s mother looked at him with a mixture of concern and wonder. That didn’t seem to be the right answer, but Gendry couldn’t summon up the words to explain anymore. He had spent all day trying to think how he would phrase it, how to best explain that of course this was happening, and that when you thought about it for more than a minute it made complete sense and it was less of an impulsive decision and more of an eventual necessity, but now when it came down to it there was no need for persuasive rhetoric. There was just Gendry standing in front of Arya’s family, and they understood. And there she was too, standing with her dad a few feet away.

The others might have turned to look too, but he didn’t notice because she was dressed in white and her nose was red with cold and she was biting her lip like she couldn’t stop herself from laughing and _gods_ she was this ethereal figure in the snow and the light and if his feet weren’t numb and if his hands weren’t shaking he thought he might have been dreaming.

It was the shortest aisle in history, but Gendry doubted there was ever a sweeter embrace at the end. Not least because Arya’s fingers were turning blue and his coat was warm.

“It’s so cold!” she whimpered, “Why did we think was a good idea?” she was half speaking, half gasping her words out in puffs of warm dragon-breath.

Gendry laughed, “Did we?” There hadn’t really been a discussion about how this would happen, it had more been Arya daydreaming and Gendry declaring those dreams to be the plan, but they both knew that even if they had spent weeks to-ing and fro-ing they would likely have ended up back here, at Winterfell, at the place where they had finally kissed and gone on together, refusing to look back. The snow was just an added winter feature.

Arya shivered again and Gendry laughed as he pulled her close, wrapping his coat around her. She tucked her arms around him and leant against him chest, looking out at Jon with the book in his hands, and Bran with the rings, and the rest of her family standing in varying degrees of delight and disbelief.   
Her mother was crying, but so was Robb, and it looked like Bran’s eyes might be glistening.

“Hi guys.” Arya grinned at them. She felt Gendry’s chest rumble with laughter and she tipped her head to look up at him. He bent down and kissed the tip of her nose.

She heard her sister laugh, “Oh Arya.” When she turned to look, Sansa shook her head affectionately and then frowned and patted her pockets. “I don’t have my phone, does anyone have a phone or a camera? You should have at least one nice photo of this.”

They all looked at each other and a rippled of laughter broke out again.

“Here,” Jon reached into his pocket and pulled out his slightly battered iphone, tossing it to Sansa who caught it neatly. When she was ready she held it up and grinned.

“Okay, go ahead.”

Jon cleared his throat and grinned at them.

“We’re here, on this snowy night in this finely decorated place, to witness the marriage of our tiniest sister” Arya stuck her tongue out at him, “and our friend, Gendry.” Sansa tapped away on the phone, trying her best to capture the affectionate look on Jon’s face before he looked down at the book in his hands. “Now, this gives me a long script to read, but as the bride has astutely pointed out, it’s quite cold, not to mention there’s food in the oven that we need to get back to before it burns.”

Bran gasped quietly and muttered, “Yes!” but they all heard, and all grinned, nodding in agreement.

“Exactly. So let’s keep this short. Vows and rings and that’s about it.” Jon nodded at them.

Arya clicked her tongue, “Chop chop, I want to be married already.”

Gendry snorted, “You just want to be warm already.”

She winked up at him, “That too.”

“Could you just say your vows?” Jon’s exasperation was lit with humour, but had the desired effect.

“They’re in my pocket.” Gendry poked Arya in the back but she just shook her head, holding onto Gendry a little tighter. He reached down and tickled the small of her back. She wriggled and grudgingly stepped away.  Gendry didn’t let her go far, but reached for her hands and held them in his larger ones. He smiled down at her. “I don’t actually need the notes.” Arya huffed, but Gendry kept smiling, “do you want them?”

She shook her head, a certain smile on her face, “No, I know what I’m promising.”

“Well then.”

In the silent pause when Gendry took a breath before he spoke, when the two of them were just Gendry Waters and Arya Stark who messed about and loved each other, in that silence where the snow was still falling and Gendry thought once again how there was nothing he could do to deserve her, he felt the potential. The future that they both knew they would have whether they said these words or not. But as he looked at Arya, he knew he wanted to say them, wanted to confirm what they both knew.

“I vow to you Arya Stark to be your husband. I will love you, honour you and protect you. I will be faithful through good and bad, sickness and health, rich and poor. I will love and cherish you for as long as we live. I offer myself to this woman in the sight of these witnesses,” he turned to look at the Starks, faintly lit in the darkness, “that she may be mine and I hers.”

The words were old, but re-ordered and updated. Not quite what Arya’s parents had said, nor even what Robb and Jeyne has sworn a few months ago, but some kind of mix of all the things they wanted to say, all the parts of their lives they wanted to mix. North and South, old and new.

Arya squinted up at Gendry through the snow, his blue eyes constant in the flurry and in the glittering darkness.

“I vow to you Gendry Waters to be your wife. I will love, honour, and protect you. I will be faithful through good and bad, sickness and health, rich and poor. I will love you and cherish you until the end of our days. I take this man in the sight of these witnesses, that he may be mine and I may be his.” Arya caught her dad’s eye and for the first time she thought she might cry.

The only sound was the wind brushing through the trees, and the shuffling of people, but Arya couldn’t help but sniff. Bran offered her a tissue when he stepped forward.

“Thanks.” She nodded at her younger brother.

“er- the rings?” he held up a plastic bag, still sealed at the top, with brightly coloured plastic rings inside. They looked like they had come from a crane machine at an arcade and Arya couldn’t help but let out a peal of laughter that cut straight through any romantic atmosphere they might have acquired.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” She cackled, watching as Gendry ripped open the package with his teeth.

He winked at her and turned to their witnesses, “Normal rings don’t fit Arya; her fingers are too small.”

They laughed, but didn’t quite seem to get the joke. Sansa was shaking her head again, but the phone was up and Arya was sure she would be grateful for that later. Surely her face had been priceless.

Arya was staring up at Gendry as she laughed, not quite able to catch her breath. They had joked about getting toy rings, since they hadn’t found time to go and pick out wedding rings, but Gendry had promised to get Arya a ring that would blow her away.

And in fairness to him she was feeling blown away by how ridiculous this was, the prospect of wearing a plastic spider ring on her finger, and of offering a bit of cheap plastic to represent their eternal, undying love. She held in a snort and tried to compose herself.

“It was very nearly a packet of Haribo rings, but they only had starmix.” Gendry shrugged apologetically, not helping Arya’s giggles at all.

“You ridiculous human.” She reached out her hand to him, with laughter still resting in her throat.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of our marriage.”

It was supposed to be serious and romantic, but Gendry was smiling and he gave her hand a squeeze so she knew it was okay to laugh.

“Oh isn’t it just?”

“Hush now, you. I give you _this_ ring, and the other one that we’ll get when this one breaks, as a symbol of our marriage.”

Arya laughed again, but quickly found herself with eyes full of tears as he carried on, the seriousness of the words catching up with her, and the fact that this was _Gendry_ , and he meant every word.

 “All that I am I give to you. All that I have I share with you.”

She thought of their flat back in Kings Landing, how they had painted it together on the first day they moved in, how they no longer knew whose DVDs were whose and who had paid for dinner last. She thought of the nights that they had spent together, staying up talking when the rest of the city was asleep, learning each other’s thoughts and dreams and bodies, screaming and crying and being honest. She thought of all those moments, the kisses and touches, everything that already meant they belonged to each other, that their lives were entangled inseparably.

He thought of the girl he had met all those years ago who was unafraid to swear and spit and stand up for herself, how much she was still like that and how much she had changed. He thought of the girl who let him see her cry only after a year of dating, who had found a dying ratty dog in an alleyway and loved it back to full health, who was standing in front of him wearing a plastic child’s toy as a wedding ring in the middle of a snowstorm, promising to never leave him and he knew she wouldn’t.

“All that I am I give to you. All that I have I share with you.” The green plastic ring didn’t even properly fit over his first knuckle but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a lump in his throat when Arya put it on his finger.

They didn’t need to be told that they were now married, they had already sealed it with a kiss before Jon could say a word.

Their family clapped and Rickon wolf-whistled, making them all laugh again.

“We should have had confetti!” Jeyne said wistfully. She was tucked under Robb’s arm and his face was mostly hidden in her hair.

“No, we have snow - nature’s confetti!” Arya stuck her tongue out to catch a snowflake.

“And nature’s weaponry!” Rickon cried, stuffing a handful down the back of Robb’s collar. He in turn rounded on his little brother and threw him down into the snow. Jeyne squealed and Sansa pulled her out of the way, well-practiced in avoiding playing in the snow. It took no time for Jon and Bran to join and Arya even thought she saw her father gather a handful of dusty snow in his gloved-hand before her mother threw him a look.

Arya watched, laughing still, before turning back to Gendry. He was watching her and the look on his face made her lean up and kiss him again.

“Come on, dinner will be ready by now.” She kept one hand tight in Gendry’s and used the other to sweep her veil to one side, gathering it in the crook of her arm. The end of it was damp and there were a few leaves in it, but she didn’t mind.  “I don’t think I can feel my toes at all anymore.” She observed, curling them up in her satin pumps.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

Arya grinned. “Oh yes! Hurry me away, fair prince!” she mimed fainting into his arms, but before she could stand straight he had picked her up off the ground, bridal style. She squealed and laughed and kissed him.

The group eventually made its way back to the house laughing and playing in the snow. A battle began between the older boys and the younger, and Sansa and Jeyne stood cheering on the side-lines. Ned and Catelyn looked on, watching their children play, watching when Gendry finally put Arya down, on the top step outside the front door. They surely must have seen how she pulled him down to kiss her again, her hand on his face, an arm around his neck, how he held her as close as he could. When Ned turned back a few minutes later the step was empty and the door ajar.

They took the few minutes before everyone else came back to stand next to the fire in the kitchen with their arms around each other. Arya had let go of her veil and she felt it as it fell to the ground, loosened by Gendry’s hands in her hair. His cheeks were cold, but this lips were warm and she found that his neck was too when she tucked her nose in under the collar of his shirt.

“I can’t believe you wore a full suit.”

He smiled against her lips when he replied, “If you were dressing up for it, I thought it only polite to do the same.”

“I love you in a suit.” She ran her hand along the buttons of his shirt.

“I know.”

“I love you out of a suit too.”

“I definitely know that.” His eyes twinkled as she raised her eyebrows at him mischievously.

They heard the front door open again, and someone called their names.

She sighed, “But for now I suppose I’ll have to love you in an apron.”

He pecked her on the cheek one more time before turning to pull an apron over his head. When he turned to offer her one she was standing looking at him with a particular look on her face.

“What?”

She beamed, smiling like her face couldn’t take all the happiness she had inside.

“I love you Gendry Waters.”

He reached for her, his arms wrapping around her as they were wont to do, his lips falling to hers, “I love you too Arya Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that GOT vows are different, but I just really love those bits of the traditional church vows, and I couldn’t find specific vows from ASOIAF or GOT for the Northerners other than ‘I take this man’ and the ones Robb and Talisa said in the show, so I just swirled all the bits I like all together and there we are!   
> Thoughts and feelings on this would be much appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	5. Happy New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks go camping to celebrate the new year but Theon is terrible at planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pinch-hitter Secret Santa gift for kingfuriosa on tumblr. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, one and all!

 

“Oh my days, I can’t _flipping_ do this anymore!”

Arya would have laughed at her well-mannered sister if she didn’t thoroughly agree with the sentiment. She was cold and tired and everything was wet. Even their wellies that had been stood upside down on cricket stumps (as advised by their resident camping expert) were wet down to their toes.

“I can’t fucking do this either.” She reached towards her rucksack and didn’t even bother opening it, she could see it was soaked through.

“Arya!”

Arya rolled her eyes, but didn’t look up from the sad state of her bag, “Sansa, I’m just agreeing with you, there’s no need to fly off the handle”

“No, you’re standing in a puddle! Quick, you’re being dripped on!” She grabbed her by the arm and tugged her to the corner of the tent where the rain hadn’t quite reached yet.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

A voice from outside the tent called to them, “Are you two bickering again? Can you leave off for another hour?”

“Can you piss off?” Arya shouted back.

The last thing she wanted right then was Robb acting like mum, telling them to play nicely with each other.

“Our tent’s leaked.” Sansa called out, looking at Arya sadly. She nodded at her big sister glumly. They were both in soggy pyjamas, having been let down not only by Theon’s second best tent, but also by the sleeping bags he had promised were ‘like new’.

“How?” the man himself sounded like he was laughing.

“Because it’s raining, knobhead!” Arya

“Yeah, but it can’t be that bad.”

They heard the sounds of someone struggling out of their tent, the squelch of wellies in the mud, and then Theon’s head popped in their tent flap.

“Bit damp in here.”  He grinned at them, shivering in the corner.

“Cunt.”

“Arya!” Sansa was horrified, and Theon, although he just kept grinning, did look a little uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, do you honestly have anything positive to say about him right now?”

“No, of course not, but that doesn’t mean you get to use words like that. You could call him a liar or tell him to- to- What was it you said last night?”

“Deep throat a cactus.”

“Yes, that. Anything that isn’t quite so bad!” Sansa had never sounded quite so much like their mother before. There was something about freezing your tits off in the middle of a field that brings out an inner self, Arya supposed.

“Okay,” she nodded at her sister and then turned to the floating head, “Theon, go fuck a cactus you lying cunt.”

Sansa groaned, but Theon just grinned more broadly.

“Kings Landing has changed you, little one.”

“Fuck-”

“Can you at least lend us some dry clothes?” Sansa cut across what was sure to be a stream of profanities coming from Arya with practicality. “Or go and see if the shop by the entrance has any wellies we could borrow?”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Theon saluted and disappeared.

“What a dick.” Sansa muttered.

-

**

-

The gas campfire wouldn’t work. That was the next thing, that huddled in the boys’ tent, with Robb and Theon sitting by the open tent flap arguing over what to do, not even the flask full of hot chocolate they had gotten from the campsite shop could bring enough warmth. Sansa and Arya sat on either side of Jon, hunched over and still freezing cold. They had waddled over to the boys tent in their wet wellies and the driest bag they had crammed full of whatever they could salvage.

Arya had somehow ended up with a pair of Jon’s socks, even though they were the furthest apart in size. She liked it though, how the thick wool flopped at the toe and wrinkled at her ankles like leg-warmers. Bran’s jumper was too long so she had rolled the sleeves several times and, seeing as she had lost in the battle for Bran’s spare pair of jeans, was swimming in Rickon’s spare pyjama bottoms. Sansa somehow made the boys’ clothes look like a fashion choice – damp tent chic – but Arya knew she looked like a crazy child.

Whilst their brothers had sorted out dry clothes for the girls Theon had gone down to the shop by the entrance to the campsite and asked about a spare tent. Apparently, the only thing they stocked was soap and hot drinks. He came back with a flask and an apology.

“But he did say that if we ask his mate down the pub that _he_ might be able to sort something out. So not a total disaster, eh?” He beamed at the huddled siblings in the tent.

“Oh yeah, an absolute dream of a situation.” Arya grumbled.

Jon nudged her with his elbow, but she could see he was trying not to laugh.

“By which she means, ‘thank you so much’.” Robb’s words were for his friend, but his reproving glare was solely for Arya.

“Sure.” She nodded at Robb apologetically, but then as soon as his back was turned rolled her eyes and shared a look with Bran, who was sitting on his sleeping bag out of the way and was trying not to laugh.

-

**

-

The pub in the village was only a twenty minute walk away, but in borrowed pyjamas and wet wellington boots in late December it felt longer. Sansa had snagged a piggy-back off Robb after she had almost fallen for the third time in less than a minute, but none of the others would come near Arya.

“Stay on that side of the road, Arry, nobody wants to be smothered in mud.”

“I’m not that muddy! I just _brushed_ the floor.”

“You face-planted it, Arya, we all saw you go down.”

Rickon seemed to be taking a bit too much joy in his role as ‘Arya watcher’. He laughed at her from across the road as she stuck her middle fingers up at him.

“Yeah, and none of you did anything to stop me.”

“I thought about it.” Bran shrugged at her, offering her a smile that didn’t quite hide his laughter.

“Thanks Bran, your consideration makes my heart bleed.”

Arya rolled her eyes and focused on stomping down the road. She hadn’t been able to get her boots back on her feet, so had resorted to stuffing them in as far as they would go and dealing with the consequences. Of course, that had led her to fall straight over about thirty seconds from leaving the tent, and then being so covered in mud nobody wanted to ever hold her hand, let alone carry her down the street.   
She looked over at Sansa perched on Robb’s back, her muddy feet swinging slightly as she chatted with him and Theon. She at least looked ready and willing to forgive the boy.   
Arya kept her frown.

The village was small enough that they found the pub within seconds. It sat at the cross roads opposite the town hall and the village shop. The sign squeaked as it blew in the wind, the angry looking bull casting its gaze across the whole street.

Arya was last through the door, attempting to shake some of the mud off her. She had managed to dislodge a clod of it from the bottom of her shoe when she just decided to give up and kicked them off in the porch.

The inner door swung open and she saw all eyes on her.

“Yes?” she glared round at them.

“Fell over, did you?”

The man behind the bar was tall with dark hair and an unsmiling mouth, and yet Arya was sure he was laughing at her. She shook her hair out of her face, not wanting to spread yet more mud around.

“No, actually, I just really wanted to take advantage of the rejuvenating properties of a full-body mud pack.” She smiled sweetly at him before scoffing, “Fuck’s sake, of course I fell over.”

“Arya!” Both Robb and Sansa went instantly to scold her, but the bartender snorted.

With her older sibling’s disapproving eyes on her Arya felt the need to apologise, but with the amused look on his face, the feeling didn’t stick too strongly.

“Our tent leaked, my shoes got wet, and none of these gits would even help me up. The guy at the front desk said that you might be able to help with camping stuff.” The time for jokes had gone, now Arya just wanted to not be covered in mud.

“Lem? Fuck, not again. He’s meant to own a campsite, you’d think that would come with camping equipment.” He shook his head, but moved from his spot behind the bar, “I’ll go and check what I’ve got in the back. Take a seat, or-” he paused and turned back to look at Arya, “-actually, do you mind not sitting on anything? I’ve just had this place cleaned.”

Jon snorted as he disappeared, and Arya spun to shout at him, but the whole lot of them were laughing and being indignant takes up so much effort, so she joined in.

In the end Theon offered up his coat for her to sit on. She settled it over a bar stool so as to minimise the damage to the furnishings.

“It looks like I don’t have anything spare, I leant it to my sister a month ago and haven’t seen it since,” The bartender was back, and despite his words his hands were full, “But I did find some waterproofs you can use while those are muddy, and you’re welcome to my washing machine.”

“Yes.” Arya whispered in excitement to herself, but the others heard and started laugheing.

Sansa sighed, and looked round at the boys, “So can we crash with you guys tonight then? Since our tent is a write-off.” She looked at Arya sadly who mimed a tear falling down her face.

“Wait, it’s just you two?” the bartender looked between the two girls.

Sansa nodded, “Yeah, it’s just our tent. But the boys have a perfectly good one, so don’t feel like you have to trouble yourself further.”

“No, it’s just if it’s just the two of you, you can stay here.” He shrugged off Sansa’s politeness and made Arya’s day.

She turned to look at the boys, her mouth stretched into the smuggest smile she could manage. Bran and Rickon laughed, but the others were still looking at the bartender.

“Are you sure? We don’t want to force them on you.”

 “Yeah, it’s not trouble for _me,_ I don’t mind at all. It’s not a hotel room or anything, it’s literally just a room in my flat upstairs, but you’re more than welcome to it.”

They were silent for a second, an awkward silence where nobody wanted to bite his hand off and look rude, but where they were obviously going to say yes. Arya took advantage of the silence to spin round and look the barman in the eye.

“Can you confirm _for definite_ that there is a shower attached and that it is _not_ communal?”

He snorted with a straight face, but nodded.

“Sold. You’re a dream of a person, sir. Actually, what’s your name?” She had just realised that this stranger who had just offered her and her sister a room for the night was a nameless figure to them all.

His lips twitched and for a second Arya thought she might finally be rewarded with a smile.

“Gendry.”

-

**

-

They decided that the boys would be the ones to go out in the cold to retrieve the girls’ things. Well, Theon and Robb and Rickon were sent back to the campsite. Bran and Jon convinced them that they should go on a quick walk around to scout out the best things to do before evening. They slipped out before the others realised, and both Sansa and Arya resolutely refused to move an inch, so the three boys were left with no choice. When the door swung shut behind them, the girls looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh.

“For goodness’ sake.” Sansa shook her head, “it was going to be us, wasn’t it?”

“Fucking Theon. Who invited him anyway?” Arya rolled her eyes.

Sansa just laughed. Theon was always invited. Like Jon, he wasn’t their biological brother, but he was the next best thing. Although he didn’t live with them like Jon did, he was there for every major family event. He had stayed with them over the holidays, and it had been him that had suggested a New Year camping trip.

“Is he the one with the straggly beard?” Gendry was behind the bar still, flipping through some paperwork, and he didn’t look up to speak, but both the girls burst out laughing immediately.

Arya let her cackles ring round the room, but Sansa pressed a hand to her mouth, a guilty look on her face.

“Yes, and you should absolutely tell him that you think it’s awful.” Arya beamed up at Gendry. “He’s the worst person ever and needs to be taken a peg or too.”

He paused in his paperwork and looked up at her, “Ever? Wow, so worse than Hitler even.”

“I mean, he is in my eyes right now, yeah?” She turned to Sansa for confirmation. Her sister rolled her eyes and turned to share a look with Gendry.

“Not _quite_ Hitler, but we’re not best pleased.”

He snorted and looked back down at the clipboard in his hand.

Arya saw her sister give a little shiver before standing up, “Are the toilets through here?” she pointed to the door at the side of the bar and Gendry nodded.

When her red hair bobbed out of view Arya turned back to the surly barman, and watched him for a second. She waited for him to finish the page he was on and before he reached for a new leaf she spoke.

“Say, friend, it’s a little chilly in here.”

He looked up at her. Arya appreciated for a moment having someone look up at her, even if it was from her sitting on a high stool and him leaning down onto the bar.

“I don’t put the heating on this early in the morning. It takes about half an hour to warm up, and I would rather only bother with it for paying customers.” He gave her a pointed look.

“Are we not paying you?” She leant forward in excitement, “Great, I’ll have nine whiskeys please.”

He chuckled, “Not for the room, but I’ll charge you for anything down here.” He nodded at the drinks behind him.

“Like heating?” She raised her eyebrows back at him, and then she smiled at him, “If I give you a tenner will you put it on for a bit?”

The smile did nothing. His face didn’t change at all.

“No.”

“Oh come on!”

“Surprisingly, I don’t feel the sudden urge to do as you demand.” He had abandoned his paperwork now and was standing, watching her.

She held a hand to her chest and twisted her face into a look of despair, “I’m wouldn’t dare demand, I’m simply asking nicely.”

“No,” he scoffed, “you’re being cheeky and trying to bribe me.”

Arya tried to disguise her laugh as outrage, but by the look on Gendry’s face he saw through it, “Ha” I’m not cheeky, I’m just-” she paused and bit her lip to contain the laughter, “-forceful.”

He laughed openly now, a smile finally crossing his face.

“See, you’re laughing, you’re charmed, you’re going to do anything I ask. This has worked hasn’t it? You’re going to put the heating on, aren’t you?” Arya grinned up at him.

He chuckle again, “I’m laughing and that’s about it.”

Arya bit her bottom lip, “Well I’m still cold, is there anything hot you can give me?”

Gendry’s eyes met hers and she heard the sentence back in her head. She felt her cheeks warm slightly.

“Like food.” She said quickly before his smirk could turn into more teasing.

“You’ll have to wait for Hot-pie, he’s the cook.”

“And when does he get here?”

Gendry sighed, “More questions? I feel like I should be charging you for those at the least.”

Arya rolled her eyes, “Well if you were more forthcoming with information, this wouldn’t have to be so painful.”

“Hot-Pie normally gets here for ten, and you’ll have to wait till then, because for legal hygiene reasons, I’m not supposed to handle food.” He raised his eyebrows at her, daring her to ask anything else.

Arya turned and look at the clock. It was still only half past nine in the morning. She turned back to Gendry. “But you’re the owner, right? Can’t you make the rules?”

Gendry nodded, “No, I’m the owner of a small pub in the Riverlands, not of the Food Standards Agency.”

“But can’t you make, like, toast without Hot-Pie being here?”

“No, it’s a legal hygiene thing.” He repeated, his lips twitching, but his gaze comfortably meeting Arya’s under her furrowed brow.

“You’re being so unreasonable!”

“And you’re being so impatient.”

“Well, that’s just rude.”

“Oh no, what a turn this conversation will take now that I’ve introduced rudeness.”

Arya was about to respond to his sarcasm, but the door to the toilets opened. They both turned towards it. Sansa looked at them, taking in the scene; Arya leaning across the bar, her feet tucked into the stool which was standing on two legs, Gendry standing to his full height, his hands flat on the bar in front of him.   
Sansa came and sat near them, settling on the soft seats next to the bar and pulling her coat on over her knees.   
“What’s been happening?” she asked, already mostly aware of the answer.

Arya huffed and turned to roll her eyes at her sister, “Gendry’s being ridiculous.”

“My condolences on your sister, it must be really rough living with her.”

Arya span back to glare at him, “It’s literally only half an hour, can’t you just make some toast?”

“It’s literally only half an hour, can’t you just wait?” he leant forward and stuck his lip out to mimic her outrage.

“Is it too early to drink?” Sansa asked, looking wearily at the pair with a smile on her face, apparently now engaged in a staring contest.

“Yes. But I can do you a hot chocolate.” Gendry didn’t look away from Arya, but his face softened into a smile as he addressed her sister.

“What about a coffee?” Arya tilted her head, still refusing to blink.

“I thought it was a bad idea to give coffee to hyperactive children?”

“Fuck you! I’m 19.” She leant back, finally looking away so she could throw an outraged look to Sansa, who just laughed at her.

“And feel the need to prove it, apparently.” Gendry had moved now, further down the bar where he reached down for two mugs.

“Excuse me?”

He laughed and looked back at her briefly before turning to the espresso machine behind the bar, “You’re just quite a lot like a Jack Russel having a go at an Alsatian.”

She stuck her lip out and considered the statement. “No, _I’m_ the Alsatian. I actually _have_ an Alsatian, she’s called Nymeria and she’s beautiful.”

Gendry had his back to her, but she thought he might be smiling from the change in his voice, “I always wanted an Alsatian, but ended up with the first mongrel I found.”

“Oh you have a dog! What’s he called?”

“Bull.”

Sansa cooed, “Aw, like the pub. That’s sweet.” She declared.

Gendry grinned at her, “Yeah, well I’m not that good with naming stuff, so there you are.” He shrugged and pushed a hot chocolate across the bar towards Sansa.

She clambered to her feet and cradled it in her hands, “Thanks.”

“Is he here?” Arya hadn’t taken any notice of the coffee on the counter and instead was looking around as though she had missed the dog somewhere.

“Not at the minute, Hot-pie walks him before he comes in to work.”

“Isn’t it unhygienic to have a dog working here?”

Gendry rolled his eyes, “Ha, ha.” He turned and swept the paperwork that was still sitting on the bar into a pile. “I’m just going to go and file this away.”

As the door closed behind him Arya turned to her sister.

Sansa was making a face at her.

“What?”

Sansa sighed and shook her head, “You’re just a lot for a person to handle, give him a break.”

Arya gasped and feigned hurt, “Sansa! I am a dream. He has had the time of his life since I got here.” She held out her hand towards the closed door as though it would speak in her favour.

Sansa snorted, “I’m sure that’s true, but just let him be for a minute, okay?”

“Of course dear sister.” Arya smiled at her over the rim of her coffee cup.

-

**  
-

The view over the hills was beautiful. The lights twinkled out over the fields as dusk fell. Sansa had taken more photos than Arya thought her camera could hold. They had had what their mother would have called ‘good quality time together’, and Arya was grateful, she really was. The group selfies would bring back fond memories.   
But as the minutes ticked by and the new year beckoned, she found herself drawn more and more to towards the path back down to the village. Not least because that was where her now clean and dry clothes were: Gendry had promised to leave them in the small attic room the girls would be sharing that night.

They had gone up to have a look when the boys returned, taking some of their bags with them up the rickety staircase, trying their hardest not to knock any of the pictures off the wall, or bump their heads on the low ceilings.

“How on earth does he live here? He’s like nine foot tall!” Arya asked, turning to watch Sansa duck her way into their room.

“I presume he grew up here? It _is_ lovely, if a bit pokey for a tall person.” Sansa was smiling at the little window with a flowerbox outside.

“But he’s a giant, giants usually live in huge caves or in castles in the sky. This flat, as adorable as it may be, _must_ be inconvenient for him.”

“It can be,” Gendry’s voice came from the door. Somehow he had managed to sneak up on them, “but my room is bigger than this, so I don’t really mind. And I don’t live here full time, just when I need to.”

Arya flushed at being caught talking about him, but nodded and took the bag from his hands.

“So where do you live normally?”

“Oh I’ve got a nice cave down south.”

Sansa rolled her eyes as Arya watched him turn and leave, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip.

It didn’t take them long to sort through their things, especially with the largest bags being left downstairs. When Gendry showed them to the utility room out the back Sansa suggested sorting through the bags, but Arya just tipped hers upside down and let the contents tumble out onto the floor.

“There. Sorted. One pile of things I want to wash.”

Sansa sighed and held her tongue.

It was only half eleven by the time they set off, wearing clean waterproofs and with packed lunches in their rucksacks they felt a little like the Famous Five off on an adventure. But Jon and Bran had done good work and found them a long day’s walk with good sights to see.

“Sansa! Come on, that’s enough photos, surely?” Robb for some ungodly reason had decided it was bright enough out to pull his aviators out. He stood with his foot on a rock in front of him, and his hands stuffed in the pockets at hip-height, looking like he was trying far too hard.

“Looks a bit Byron, doesn’t it?”

 “Huh?”

Arya squinted up at Bran. She was used to him coming out with references to things she didn’t understand.

“Robb on the rock. Gazing out onto the horizon. It’s almost poetic.” Bran’s brow was furrowed in thought, but there was a peace to the set of his shoulders that told his sister that he liked it here.

“It’s almost too easy to push him over, you mean. Do you reckon he’d bounce?”

Bran snorted, “Probably, and then he’d die and then you’d have an angry bride on your hands.”

“Yeah, but it’d be a fucking spectacular way to go. If you ever fancy knocking me off, I want you to push me off a very high place and then see how much of me makes it to the ground.”

“Think about your death much?”

“No, I just think it’s likely that I’ll be murdered, and it’s normally someone you know isn’t it?”

Bran shook his head. “Nah, that’ll be too good for you. I think I would probably just use all the hair gel and blame you. Then Robb and Rickon would tear you apart for me.”

Arya laughed and turned back to the path.

They reached the peak before dark, clambering up onto the final ledge just as the sun was setting beneath the horizon. Sansa snapped some pictures, and Theon opened his bag to hand round beers, purposefully throwing one to Jon directly over Rickon’s head.

“Hey!” the younger boy threw his arms in the arm, scowling.

“You’re seventeen, pal. No alcohol for you.” Robb used his serious-older-brother voice, but he was grinning so Arya didn’t feel bad about passing her bottle along to her younger brother once Robb’s back was turned. Rickon beamed at her and flopped down on a dry rock just behind where Robb and Theon were watching the sun set. Bran settled next to him, but Sansa stepped forward to take a few more pictures.

“You okay, little one?” Jon looked down at her as Arya threaded her arm through his. His hands were tucked into his pockets, but there was always a space at his side for Arya to warm her hands.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She shrugged. “Happy New Year.” She grinned up at him.

He smiled, “It’s not New Year yet, we still have a good few hours left yet before everything changes.”

She scowled. She was still mostly in denial about what the new year would bring, “Not everything’s changing.” She looked towards the ground, certain that Jon would be fixing her with that look of concerned affection.

“No, but some things are, Arya.”

“I know, I know,” she focused on the muddy patch beneath her toe as she spoke, digging her borrowed wellington boot into the ground a little, “You’re leaving, Robb’s getting married, Bran’s going off to university. _Some_ things are changing. ”

“You’re going off too.” He squeezed her arm against with his elbow.

“Yeah, but this is my last year of going off, I’m almost finished with school.”

“Just because you’re almost finished with school doesn’t mean you’re finished with going off places. Do you know what you want to do next?”

“Eugh,” Arya groaned, closing her eyes against the possibilities, “I don’t know yet, and everyone else does. I just know I don’t want to do what they’re all doing. I want to- to travel, to have fun, to be just a little bit free before the chains of life are clapped on.”

Jon didn’t say anything, but she could feel him chuckling.

“You know it’s not as bad as all that, right?”

“No?” She tilted her head up to meet his eyes, brown and soft and so familiar. “Then why are you running away?”

His smile dropped a little, but his gaze was still gentle, “I’m joining the army, I’m not running away.”

“Same difference.” She didn’t bother frowning. He knew what she thought of the decision. They had come to the other side of arguing about it.

Jon sighed, “Arya, I’ll be home as often as I can, I’ll come and see you as much as I can. It’s just a thing I’m doing with life at the minute, it’s not me running away.”

Arya didn’t have anything to say to that. She knew he would come home, just as she knew that Robb would bring Jeyne back to the north eventually, and that as much as Sansa seemed to love the warmth in the south, she would find her way back to the snows. It was in their blood.

“I want to run away.” It came out in a whisper, half hidden in the wind, but that didn’t make it less true. If Jon was going away then the north could wait.

“All alone?”

Arya was so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice the smile growing on Jon’s face. She smiled at the thought of running alone through the world. She could, she could look after herself. But she didn’t have to.

“Maybe I’ll find a companion, some beautiful boy who’ll follow me to the ends of the earth.” She smirked at the sunset, picturing the mischief she could get up to with a blue-eyed boy.

Jon squeezed her arm again, “Someone in mind?”

Arya turned to look at him. She saw the twinkle in his eye and the smile twitching at his cheeks.

“What are you getting at Jon Snow?”

“Well,” he pulled a hand from a pocket and reached to tweak her nose, making her frown sulkily, “Sansa was saying how well you were getting on with that bartender.”

Arya laughed, and then felt herself blush. “He’s nice. It would be a bit intense to ask him to run away with me on the same day I meet him, though.”

“How about just starting with his number?”

“Oh, I already have that. Just in case of emergencies.”

Jon laughed and shook his head. “Oh Arya, only you.”

-

**

-

It was surprising to see the pub full, to see tables pulled together and chairs being spread round, for music to fill the air not already taken up with laughter and excited chatter. It was a totally different place to the quiet room that Arya and Gendry had filled with laughter that morning.  
Arya found she rather liked it. The press at the bar, the queue for the toilet, the whole mood of the place made her want to laugh again.   
Once the group of them had snagged enough chairs and balanced themselves between a few tables Jon pushed Arya up to the bar - “You’re more likely to get served first, get a round in!” – He had winked but Arya had laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She had no problem standing in the crowd trying to catch his eye.

His eyes wrinkled when he saw her, standing on her tip-toes and leaning across the bar watching him work.

“What can I get you?” he grinned. His hair was far messier than when she had last seen him and was mostly flopped down over his sweaty brow. Arya brushed her own hair off her face again.

“Six beers and a lemonade. Whatever you’ve got on tap.”

Rickon cried in anguish at the sight of his lemonade, but Robb smiled smugly.

“See? Even Arya won’t enable you in this. Just enjoy yourself Rick, you don’t need alcohol.” He took a sip from his drink and then paused, “What is this Arya?”

“I have no idea.” She smiled at him, lifting her own glass off the tray.

“Well it’s good.” He nodded in approval.

Arya wasn’t listening. The black-haired head behind the bar had disappeared. The door to the back room was swinging shut and Arya found herself getting to her feet.

“I’m going to see if our things are done in the dryer.” She mumbled to Sansa beside her. Her sister nodded and made a noise of acknowledgement, but when Arya caught her eye as she stood she knew there would be questions later. She gave her a quick smile and then slipped into the crowd.

The door to the back office wasn’t particularly thick but somehow it cut out all noise from the front of house. Arya made her way down the corridor, peaking through the open doors. There was nobody in sight, but there was noise coming from the utility room at the back, the same place Arya was allegedly heading. Perfect.

Gendry had his back turned when Arya pushed the door open, giving her a second to gather her nerves.

“Hey.”

He jumped and span around.

“Hi there.”

She took a step into the room, looking down at the dryer so she could say she at least looked at it when they asked. When she saw the drum still going she let herself meet his eyes.

“So, will you be busy at midnight, do you think?”

“On New Year’s Eve?” His grin was crooked, but good-natured. “Probably. Why’d you ask?”

She let a grin spread on her own face, and made sure to brush her hair out of her face.

“Because I was hoping to ring the New Year in with a kiss from a handsome stranger.”

She wasn’t blushing - or at least she hoped not because he was still looking at her – but she felt warm from her head to her toe. Those blue eyes.

“Well, I’ll be busy, sorry.” He spoke casually, but his jaw had tensed.

“Right.” She nodded, biting her lip. “Of course.” She looked down towards her bag, thinking up an excuse to run back to the others.

“But I’m not busy now.”

She turned back to him. He was still looking at her with that grin on his face, standing there not too far away. Standing there, looking like everything Arya wanted her New Year to look like, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, his hair flopped over his sweaty forehead, and what she could only call an optimistic look in his eye. She took a step forward and then she just couldn’t help herself.

His hair was as soft as it looked, gentle on her fingers as she pulled his head down to hers. His hands were not so gentle, his grip biting into her hip, but she really didn’t care much for what his hands were doing, not right now when his lips were right there, tasting of orange juice and peanuts. She liked how his stubble rubbed against her cheek, and his hand creeping up her back.

He pulled away after what felt like an hour but was probably only a minute. She heard the noise of displeasure before realising it had come from her. He chuckled and pressed a swift kiss against her cheek.

“Happy New Year.”

He was back behind the bar by the time she had composed herself. She was sure she was still flushed when she returned to the others, but she still tried to slip back into her seat as subtly as she could.

“Didn’t get any?”

It took her a minute to realise she was being spoken to, and when she did a second more to pinpoint the source. She met her brother’s blue eyes with a slightly startled expression.

“Huh?”

“Clean clothes? From dryer?” Robb clarified, nodding down at her muddy jacket that still hung from her shoulders, but Arya was still a bit bewildered. Her thoughts were not with _clothes_ at the minute, even though she was finding herself rather fixated on Gendry’s shirt and how whenever he bent down below the bar she could see a little bit of his chest.

“No, the machine was still going.” She mumbled.

“Are you alright, little one?” Theon glanced at her as he reached for his drink. “Hey, Rickon have you had some of this? Come on, mate, you’re underage! Lemonade only for you!”

They all laughed as Rickon groaned, “I’m seventeen! It’s my birthday in three months, let me live, Theon!”

“Yeah Theon, let him live!” Arya snorted as Bran stuck his tongue out and mimicked Rickon. He suddenly turned to his younger brother and put a hand on his cheek, “Who knows where he’ll be this time next year. Our baby brother might be gone! Oh, Rickon!” They all laughed at Bran, at Rickon’s face, at Jon reaching over to ruffle his hair, and Arya took a moment to be thankful. That with everything changing, some things would be the same. That Theon’s plan had failed like always. That she had a direct view of the bar. She caught Gendry’s eye as he scanned the crowd and couldn’t help but smile. He winked at her and turned back to his customers, still grinning.

Arya touched her own cheeks, still warm from his lips. It would be some time until she stopped smiling.

 


	6. Top of the (teacher) class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another call from the school, another visit with her deviant brother's teacher, why should this be any different?
> 
> This was a mini gift for Tigereyes45 as part of the tumblr GOT Secret Santa. Merry Christmas!

Once more and she would really start to lose control.

One more detention and Rickon would be barred from ever leaving the house. She would call Jon back home and find the meanest septor imaginable and hold Rickon’s head by the ears to make sure the boy passed his exams.

This was the sixth time this term that Arya had been called in to school to explain why her fuckwit of a brother couldn’t just do his homework.

Yes, their parents had died, yes Robb was still missing, and yes life was all round shit at the minute, but if Arya could drag herself back to college, then Rickon could do his Science homework.

Rickon, of course, disagreed.

“Hello? Is that Rickon’s guardian?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here- ah shi- sorry-” she skidded to a stop at the wall, grabbing the phone from the bracket. The shrill noise of the phone had cut through her afternoon and jolted her back to reality, but that didn’t mean she was fully dressed or ready to talk to anyone, “Fuck- yes, so sorry, this is Arya Stark, is that the school again?” Arya tried to sound surprised, but the only phone calls she got these days were from Jon or the school, so there wasn’t much to be surprised by.

“Er- Yes, this is Miss Stone. Rickon has been held back for detention again, and as this is his fourth this week you’ll need to come for a meeting with his teacher. Mr Waters will be free from half three today if that’s any good for-“

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Sorry about Rickon.”

“No- no problem. I’ll let Mr. Waters know that he can expect you today.”

“Yes, okay.”

Arya sighed and but the phone back on its stand.

Fuck.

-

Arya remembered St Aegon’s school from her own time there, and even though she was five years removed from it she still got tingles down her spine whenever she walked through the door. Mr. Waters’ room was at the end of the Science corridor, opposite the supply cupboard. Arya remembered Mr. Fyrell’s lessons in this room, how he would hit the board with the metre ruler and take no shit from them. She had had more than one detention here herself, but never as many as Rickon.

Rickon.

He was sat at the desk at the back closest to the window, staring out at the playing field, pretending not to notice that his sister was standing in the doorway.

“Ah, Miss Stark, it’s good to see you again.” Mr. Waters stood up from his desk and reached out to shake Arya’s hand. She smiled at him. He was Arya’s favourite of Rickon’s teacher. He actually took the time to listen whereas some of the others had a tendency just to dish out punishment. It also helped that Mr. Waters was six foot tall, seriously in shape, and only four years older than Arya herself.

“Mr. Waters. How’s things?”

“Well, this is the fifth time he’s not had his homework, so a detention was due, but I wanted to have a chat about some other things as well. Rickon-” he turned to the boy who turned his head towards them, but didn’t raise his eyes from the floor, “Miss Stone’s expecting you in reception. If you wait there your sister will come and pick you up when we’re done.”

The boy nodded and walked the long way around the classroom, avoiding Arya as much as possible. He slammed the door behind him.

Arya sighed, “Oh gods. What else has he done?” she turned back to Mr Waters, her face crinkled with worry. His smile was sympathetic.

“Let’s take a seat, Miss Stark.”

“Fuck, that means it’s bad.” She groaned, pulling one of the hard plastic seats over to Mr. Waters’ desk. She sank into it and looked up to see his eyebrows raised in a schooled expression. She blushed, “Sorry, I don’t mean to swear, I’m just- I’ll not do it again.”

He smiled at her, “It’s okay Miss Stark, I understand.”

“Thanks.” She sank into the chair and sighed again, “Right, so what’s going on with Rickon then?”

 Mr Waters cleared his throat, “Well, Miss Stark-“

“Sorry, do you mind calling me Arya? Only Miss Stark makes me feel like I’m about to be told off, and I’ve done my time, so do you mind?”

He blinked at her, clearly a little taken aback, but his smile stayed on his face, so Arya presumed she hadn’t offended him too badly.

“Yes, of course, _Arya_. Right, so Rickon, as I’ve said, hasn’t produced a piece of homework for me this entire term, which is naturally worrying, but I do understand that there are difficult circumstances at home?”

Arya couldn’t quite meet his eyes – blue and sympathetic – as she thought about how they were doing at home. Sansa and her didn’t bicker anymore, and there was general peace, but that was more because it took so much energy just to manage daily life.

“Yeah, our- our parents died last year, and one of our brothers- um-”

“He’s missing, isn’t he?”

“Oh yeah, yeah Robb. He is – er- missing, but I actually meant our other brother, Bran? Um, he’s in hospital, so there’s-” she looked down at her knees, watching her fingers twist her scarf around,  “there’s a few things happening.

She looked up again, and was grateful for the look of understanding, but she didn’t really want to be understood right now. She mostly just wanted to see what they could do about Rickon getting his act together.

“There’s a lot going on, Arya, I can understand that homework isn’t exactly a priority in a situation like that.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely true. Especially when Rickon’s being a little shit and not telling us what’s happening at school.” She rolled her eyes, and tried not to smile.

“Well there’s a lot going on at school, I can’t say I blame him for keeping it to himself.”

Arya frowned up at him, “What do you mean, Mr Waters?”

He face was coloured with a frown, but his lips twitched when she said his name. “Do you mind calling me Gendry, if I’m going to be calling you Arya?”

“Of course I don’t mind. Equal footing and all that.” She grinned.

“Right, so, _Arya_ ,” he smiled a little bit and then looked down at the paperwork on his desk. There were more than a few pink detention slips with Rickon’s name there. Ones that Arya had never seen. “Rickon’s been getting into a few fights.”

“He what?” The prickling of anger and shame spread across Arya’s skin. Someone had been messing with her brother and she hadn’t even known to defend him.

“With some of the other boys. There have been scraps and nothing too serious, I’ve been around to break it up before anything dangerous happens, but I’ve found that when Rickon’s not out fighting at lunch times he’s hiding in the library. And last week he asked if he could eat in here with me, so that nobody could find him.”

Arya clenched her jaw to keep herself from saying much other than, “Right.”

“I don’t know how severe the bullying is, and obviously Rickon can stand up for himself, but he shouldn’t have to. I’ve been trying to talk to him and find out who it is exactly, although I do have a pretty good idea, but if you could talk to him too-”

“Yeah.” She said quickly, still staring at him. Rickon was the loud one at home. The one who made the crass jokes that brought out groans and giggles from them all. He was the messy one who made his presence known. When even Arya couldn’t get Jon to tell them anything, it was Rickon who could get him to crack a joke. She had never known him to run away from a fight, from a challenge. She sniffed.

“I can see you’re worried, and I want to reassure you that we’ll do everything we can to help.” His hand was on her knee and she was a little bit grateful to have worn a skirt this afternoon. It was nice to have some human contact. No, hush, you’re here for _Rickon._ She realised that she was staring, not at his face, but at his chest. At the third button down that was a slightly different shade of brown than the others.

“Arya.”

She looked up and met his gaze. His eyes were the same shade of blue as his shirt. She nodded. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip.

“If there’s anything, anything at all, that I can do to make this a bit easier, please don’t hesitate-” he turned away and Arya took the opportunity to admire his profile: strong nose, thick eyebrows, plump lips. He grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled on it.

“This is my number, my personal number, which I do not give out lightly,” he held it out with a raised brow and the whisper of a smile, “and which I’m sure you know better than to abuse,” he winked and Arya tried to stop herself thinking of all the ways in which she could abuse it. He continued with a more serious look on his face, “I’m concerned that Rickon might slip through the gaps, not through any fault of his family, or anyone in particular,” he added hastily when Arya’s face slipped into panic, “but just because too often teenage boys get called lazy and disrespectful instead of anyone helping them with what’s actually wrong. So please,” he stood up from his creaking wooden chair, the scrap of paper still in his outstretched hand, “call me if you have any worries, if there’s any further support I can offer.”

It was only when she was noticing the pattern of freckles on the underside of his jaw that she realised she should have stood up as well. The meeting was ending.

“Thank-Thank you Gendry,” she smiled, scrambling up off the chair as quickly as she could, dragging her bag with her so as to make a sharp exit.

Well, she at least _tried_ to leave. In all the freckle-examining she hadn’t notice the strap tangled around the chair-leg, and so was unprepared for it drag the chair up and bash into the back of her legs. She stumbled forwards right into Gendry.   
The sudden forward motion pushed him back down into his chair and Arya found herself on top of him. On his lap.  
Her face was only a breath from his, and her knees spread on either side of one of his large thighs, and it took her a little too long to realise that gripping his upper arm as tightly as she was might give off the wrong impression. Or at least, an improper suggestion. She fixed her eyes on his chest – on that third button down – and forced some air into her lungs.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered. He nodded quickly, and then when she made no effort to move, he coughed.

She looked up at his face and jumped, practically throwing herself backwards,

“I’m _so_ sorry! My bag. It –um – the chair.” She muttered, trying to tug her skirt back down as she stood - and only managing to stumble forward again. She looked up at him. 

While her face was about as hot as the sun, his seemed to have turned to a block of ice. His eyes were glassy, and his speech frozen.

“Oh- um – that’s –er – that’s – here, let me help.” Gendry stuttered them up into a slightly less awkward standing position, his hands brushing against her hips and then whipping away immediately. Arya could feel the blood pounding in her cheeks, and the shame rushing through her.   
Just because he was attractive did not mean it was okay to hit on Rickon’s teacher. Especially not when he was so sincere and helpful. Especially not when he had just given her his private number and asked her not to abuse it.

She took a little comfort in the stilted awkwardness when she looked up at his face and saw the blush filling his cheeks. He still looked shocked, but there was a twitching happening with his mouth that Arya felt sure was about to break into a smile.

“So, um,” Arya paused and considered her next words as she watched his face. He met her gaze and finally there was a grin, “Now that I’ve got a proper feel of you,” she grinned as his cheeks shone brighter, “as a teacher, of course,” she added biting her lip so she didn’t smile too widely, “I’ll be sure to get in touch if we need anything.”

She reached for the paper still clutched in his hand. His skin was rougher than she had expected and his hand larger but she liked holding it, just for a second. Then he pulled away and her hand was curled around nothing more than paper.

“Please, feel free to call me, text me, whatever. If I can be of any help to you at all.”

Arya chuckled. She liked the awkward ice-cubes of accidental intimacy too much to let him slip back in _Mr. Waters._ Besides, he had already said all the lovely and sincere things he needed to, a little flirting couldn’t hurt now, surely.

“Whatever?” she tilted her head as she looked up at him.

“Yes, of course, whatever you need.” He coughed again, clearly doing his best to dredge up the remains of professionalism within him.

“Not ‘within reason’, or ‘as long as it’s inappropriate’?” Arya was partly trying to tease him back into that casual laughter she had glimpsed a minute ago, but she was also just marvelling at a person who would present themselves so completely for the benefit of someone else.

“Why? Should I be expecting dick picks?”

Arya laughed out loud for the first time in a while, the answer was so unexpected,

“Well maybe. You never know what you’re going to get if you lead with ‘text me whatever’.”

“True. Well, no limits, whatever you need.” He tucked his hands in his pockets as they took a step towards the door. He seemed to want to bring the conversation back down to a more adult level. Arya was having none of it.  

“Even dick-pics?”

“If a situation arises where it is completely unavoidable, I’m sure I could handle a few pictures of penises.”

Arya laughed, again, not quite sure what would happen if her face was kept from scowling for this long. Was this healthy? No, probably not, Arya Stark didn’t giggle and beam, but she didn’t mind. Hell, if Rickon wasn’t waiting for her she would have asked Gendry if he wanted to carry this on over dinner.  

“I’ll see how things go,” she shrugged, finally twisting the door handle and bursting their bubble, “I should go and fetch my brother.”

Gendry sobered up quickly at the mention of Rickon. His smile dropping but there was a look on his face that made her think of Jon, a look of quiet affection. Arya’s insides warmed at the sight of it. “Yes, of course.”

“I’m not sure how things are going to go with him, if I’m honest, he’s sometimes a bit wild, even by Stark standards, but we really are grateful for any and all help you can offer.” Arya wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate swing back to serious topics of a parent-teacher conference, but she couldn’t leave without letting him know. “It will be alright, Gendry,” She put a hand on his arm, just for a second, “there’s no way we’ll let Rickon slip by unnoticed.”

And of course she meant it. The Starks stuck together, even when everything was going to shit. No matter what, family held strong. Arya wasn’t sure what life would be like if Mr. Gendry Waters and the Stark family had never crossed paths – maybe completely different, maybe with just one more ‘F’ on Rickon’s school report – but even if it was just a drop in the ocean, Arya was thankful for Gendry Waters. Even if she never dialled that number, Gendry was helping them.

“Thank you.”

He smiled,

“Happy to help. In whatever way.”


End file.
